


One Kind of a Beat

by fopsyche94



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Ocean Eleven with a little twist, heist!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 17:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16644464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fopsyche94/pseuds/fopsyche94
Summary: Eight years later, Chanyeol found him again. And this time, he is not going to give up.





	One Kind of a Beat

The NIS representative’s speech went on and on. Chanyeol could barely keep his eyes open, his head repeatedly rolled to the back of his seat. He hated these conferences, but he was a mere junior lecturer working in a strict, hierarchic culture of Asian university. He could never choose.

“Professor Park?” Chanyeol blinked blearily when the old man suddenly addressed him. “Professor Park Chanyeol?”

“Yeah?” he responded informally. He looked up, gulping when he saw the dean of his faculty stared at him unimpressedly from beside the NIS executive. “I mean, pardon?”

The man sighed. “We want to hear your opinion about this current matter,” he said, annoyed.

 _What were they talking about these past two hours?_ Chanyeol tilted his head. _Oh, right._

“ENISA is one of the best bureaus to work with if we’re talking about cyber security,” Chanyeol began. “And it pleases me as well as many other people that government plans to invest so much for our citizens’ safety. However,” Chanyeol straightened his posture, bracing for whatever backlash he knew he was about to receive, “it also concerns me that you’re not believing in our own people, Korean cyber experts’ skills, to build you sophisticated system with much, much lower budget than you will spend to pay ENISA.”

“We—”

“Do you think why South Korea’s been dubbed as a leading country in information technology if not for our native experts?” Chanyeol eyed the board, critiquing. “Forgive me to say, that I’m very disappointed by the lack of trust you put on us.”

 

 

“There is a time,” the Dean fumed when they got out of the conference room, “when your academic input would be dearly appreciated. _That_ wasn’t the time.”

“I like being blunt.” Chanyeol shrugged.

“If this gets to the university you’re done for.” They stopped in front of the building. “Don’t come to the uni for the next three days, I want you to reflect on this. Remember, you’re _not yet_ holding permanent position in our faculty.” With that last threatening note, he left Chanyeol alone.

The tall man ran a hand through his cropped black hair. So much for bringing in ideas to otherwise dry crowd. Feeling stuffy, he deeply inhaled the humid air of summer in Gwanak-gu. His eyes flit over to various symmetrical buildings that surrounded him. SNU always seemed too...artificial, impersonal. That was the main reason he rejected a teaching position there and embraced Dongguk’s offer instead.

If he was to be honest, he’d choose his alma mater over any other university in the world. But KAIST and Daejeon brought bittersweet memories that were _mostly_ _bitter_ to him as of lately. They reminded him of fights, tears, hurts, then sweet and gentle kisses, melodious words, deep black eyes that swallowed Chanyeol’s whole, short male with short dark hair…

Chanyeol was startled out when he realized that the object of his fleeting thoughts materialized before his eyes. A man of fair height was standing at nearby building, his backside facing him. Despite the weather, he wore neatly pressed black suit, attire Chanyeol would never see him wearing in the past. But that figure was achingly familiar. The way that narrow shoulders sloped downwards, as if holding the weight of the world. The back of his neck had red tint to it, because he knew the owner’s skin was sensitive to heat.

He walked to get closer to the man. Chanyeol’s steps quickened when the man looked to his side, teasing him with the sight of heavy brow, full lips, and wide eye. One hundred meters felt like thousand light years.

Chanyeol broke into sprint when saw him walking away to the other side of the opened building. He wanted to yell his name, really, but his throat locked up.

“Kyung—”

The man in suit had a sleek black car waiting for him. He entered the car. Chanyeol was going to lose him. The car drove away, slowly speeding up as it get further away from the campus buildings. By that time Chanyeol had already gone nuts, his limbs flailing to every direction he must look manic. His foot got caught in random bump on the pavement, sending him sprawling down on his front.

 _Clumsy_ , he remembered Kyungsoo had said that as the other helped him up whenever he fell, which happened far too often. He was, because he was Chanyeol.

And because he was Chanyeol, fool and slow and clumsy, he had lost Kyungsoo. Again.

 

 

***

 

Kyungsoo sighed, his fingers flew up to massage his temple.

“It didn’t go well, sir?” Zitao, his loyal chauffeur, asked. He eyed Kyungsoo with concern from the rearview mirror.

“He’s indecisive,” Kyungsoo said, gruffly. He had never thought that it would take this much effort to look for a hacker.

“There’s this name that goes around if you’re looking for young, experienced hacker with zero criminal records,” Zitao told him. “My link suggested a new professor at Dongguk University.” Kyungsoo’s felt his stomach dropped. “His name’s Park Chanyeol and—”

“No,” Kyungsoo cut him.

“But, sir—”

Kyungsoo reiterated with finality, “No.” There’s no way he would involve Chanyeol in this dangerous game, or in _any part of his life_ for that matter. He would never let his star went dim, not when it supposed to shine bright.

Zitao seemed to notice bad air around him that he shut up. “Forgive me, sir,” he apologized.

He didn't reply but his stance softened to let Zitao knew he wasn't mad at him. Kyungsoo reclined back against the soft leather of his car seat, watching as Seoul blurred past him. He had never really liked the city, always chose Daejeon over it. But Chanyeol _adored_ it, his hometown, enjoying the bustles and loudness. Kyungsoo had slowly learned to like it, or at least tolerated it. They had spent many times together in this very city, moments ladened with adrenaline, laughter, and...love.

 _Love_. Kyungsoo shut his eyes, burrowing his head deeper against the back of his seat. He hadn’t felt, thought, even _said_ that L-word for years.

 _Lie_ , voice in his head whispered. That would say he hadn’t thought of Chanyeol _at all_ , when in fact…

“We’re here, sir,” Zitao announced.

Kyungsoo must have been too deep in his own head that he didn’t realize they had driven past the chaotic city to the suburb, almost to Gyeonggi-do. The car stopped in front of a two story house, looking small and modest compared to the other ones around the high-end area, but still majestic in its simplicity. It fitted the owner greatly.

He went out of the car, opening the front gate that lead into a fair size yard. Just as he crosses the small Japanese-style garden, a feminine’s voice could be heard from his right side.

“Who are you here for?”

Calmly, he turned around. A tall woman appeared from the back of a vintage Bugatti, dressed in dirty work overall. Her brunette hair was tied in messy bun on top of her head. Traces of dark oil smeared across her cheeks but she looked beautiful nonetheless. She must be Kim Jongin.

“Ah.” Jongin nodded to herself before Kyungsoo could answer. “Joonmyun?”

“Yes, I’m looking for him,” Kyungsoo replied, politely. “I’m Do Kyungsoo. An old friend.”

Jongin seemed to recognize his name. Kyungsoo wondered what Joonmyun had told her about him. “Come on then,” she told him. The girl walked past him, gesturing Kyungsoo to follow after her.

Inside, they found Joonmyun’s sitting on the couch, reading some business magazine. He looked up when they came in but didn’t look like he’s surprised by Kyungsoo’s unannounced visit. Kyungsoo knew better however, that keeping calm facade was the first thing you need to learn to be involved in harsh business world. He and Joonmyun were raised in the same way.

“Kyungsoo,” Joonmyun greeted him, dropping his reading glasses. “Come sit down.”

He chose the empty seat across Joonmyun while Jongin moved to sit beside her boyfriend. Joonmyun didn’t seem to mind his girlfriend post-working body next to his neat self, even reaching out to pull Jongin closer to him. Kyungsoo felt a phantom pain in his chest at the inadvertent show of intimacy.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Joonmyun asked, his eyes glinted with curiosity.

Kyungsoo glanced at Jongin before saying, “I’m just here to see a friend.”

He saw Jongin arched a brow to his direction, picking up the situation quickly. The younger girl slowly entangled herself from Joonmyun, then stood up and said, “I need to clean up a bit. Do you want a drink, Mr. Do Kyungsoo? Tea? Or something stronger?”

“Tea would be great.” Kyungsoo smiled slightly.

“Alright.” Jongin nodded and left.

“So?” Joonmyun started a few beats after Jongin was no longer in sight. “Why are you here?”

Kyungsoo maintained firm eye contact with the blonde man, the trace of smile he’d given to Jongin was gone. There was no apparent shift in Joonmyun’s expression but he sat slightly straighter.

“I want to know if I can trust you,” Kyungsoo said. “I want to know if you have even the slightest bit of loyalty to me.”

It was a stupid question to be blurted out. Joonmyun’s full-out laugh proved him so. But Kyungsoo remained unfazed.

“Oh, Kyungsoo,” Joonmyun sighed when his laughter had faded. “It’s, frankly, stupid to ask _me_ about loyalty. Loyalty won’t do with the way I live. We punch and strike. _Destroy_ , if it’s needed. You should know that by heart, Kyungsoo.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“Then why are you asking?”

Kyungsoo’s lips quirked up on one side. “I’m about to do something dangerous.”

“How dangerous?” Joonmyun smiled.

“Like ‘fucking up a casino’ kind of dangerous.”

Any hint of playfulness vanished from Joonmyun’s face. He stared at Kyungsoo as if he was going crazy, which he probably was. Joonmyun had looked so severe that Kyungsoo emitted involuntary chuckle.

“Where?” Joonmyun hissed. “And which?”

“Macau,” Kyungsoo supplied. “Royal Mirage.”

Joonmyun’s eyebrows shot up almost comically. “Are you fucking suicidal?”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “I might be.”

“You know better than to tickle a sleeping dragon.” Joonmyun shook his head disbelievingly. “He’s going to _crush_ you. Wipe out your existence.”

“If he found out,” Kyungsoo pointed out. “Which he’s not going to.”

“Your parents wouldn’t want this, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo’s expression darkened. “You don’t know what they would want,” he snapped viciously, his calm broke. He inhaled deeply. “I need to do this, Joonmyun. For them, for _myself_. I know I would never sleep well at night if I haven’t tried.”

“Revenge has never been a good motive,” Joonmyun’s tone was heavy of warning. “Go back to Zürich. Focus on running your sweet little Michelin restaurant. _Let go_.”

“Joonmyun, if I ever need a lecture I will go to Minseok.”

“Why are you coming to me exactly?” Joonmyun demanded. “What do you want from me?”

“I need funding,” Kyungsoo said, bluntly. “And a headquarter.”

Joonmyun held his eyes some while, deep and searching. Kyungsoo merely staring back, his face had smoothed out, betraying nothing. Joonmyun’s next words, however, almost crumbled his balance, “I'm not sending you to your doom.”

They were done, then. Kyungsoo nodded his head and stood. “Well, then, thank you for your hospitality.”

“I know what it means to you,” Joonmyun said. “Remember how we used to run around Black Pearl’s corridors, creating havoc, when we were children?” Kyungsoo remembered like it was just yesterday. The burgundy hallways, velvety soft rugs, smiley servants, and the scent of fresh flowers that were strategically placed alongside the corridors. The memory of little him racing and goofing with Joonmyun all over Black Pearl with exasperated staffs sprinting after them was vivid. “I always think of you as a brother, Kyungsoo, even if you don’t. And this is a brotherly advice to you: _go on with your life_. Find a cute girl, or guy, and settle down. Forget.”

“You know your advice is futile, right?”

Joonmyun’s eyes were sad, Kyungsoo wondered if they mirrored his. “It’ll help _me_ sleep well at night to know that I’ve tried.”

“Goodbye, Joonmyun,” Kyungsoo said.

“Take care.” Joonmyun rose from the couch. His eyebrows were still furrowed. Kyungsoo stealthily avoided looking straight into his eyes now because he’s unable to deal with sympathy. “Thank you for the Degas. It's a wonderful birthday present.”

“Tell me if you have eyes on another art piece. I live one short-flight away from Paris and Rome, so it's convenient,” Kyungsoo offered. “Nice to meet you, Miss Kim! I think I will have the tea next time!” he said louder to the back door where he knew Jongin had been listening for the past ten minutes. He heard her squeak, exchanging reluctant amused smiles with Joonmyun.

“Please tell me that you're not alone in this,” Joonmyun begged, he was still looking worried.

“I'm not _that_ suicidal,” Kyungsoo replied, half-smirking. His brain already geared up, churning out some alternatives. “I have people in mind.”

 

***

 

Baekhyun’s hand danced across his notebook, jotting down everything that Professor Park said religiously. Occasionally he would point his fingers up in the air to ask for passages he didn’t get. His large glasses slipped down whenever he bounced too hard on his seat. His high school friends and teachers would be surprised if they saw them like this.

When the class was over, Baekhyun immediately approached his lecturer.

“Yes, Baekhyun?” Park Chanyeol’s smile was neither as bright nor as sincere like the usual. He seemed like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. His face was ghostly pale, not to mention the prominent dark circles under his moony eyes. “Do you need some help?”

“Well—” The invitation to talk about the previous class over lunch died in his throat. One, his nerves ate him. Two, Professor Park looked like he would tumble over in any minute.

“Well?” the young professor urged.

“I’m just going to say that I enjoyed the class. I mean, I’d always believe that algorithm is way over my head but you managed to make it interesting. I understand much better.” _Smooth, Baekhyun._

Professor Park’s smiled, this time more genuine. “I’m glad to hear that. Come to me if you ever need help, okay?”

“Ye…yes,” Baekhyun stuttered. “Then, I’ll, I’ll go.”

“Have a nice day, Baekhyun.”

“You too, professor.” Baekhyun bowed his head and backed away. He cursed himself all the way down to a GS25 near campus. He was still pouting even after he paid a package of banana-flavored milk and two triangle kimbap.

“ _’I’d like to have lunch with you so we can talk about computation and other stuffs’_ ,” Baekhyun mumbled aggressively to himself. “How fucking hard is it?”

Baekhyun had been nursing a painful crush for Park Chanyeol since the day one. He’d been a mere freshman, just done with his conscription, still unsure whether Computer Engineering would suit him. His first class that semester was calculus, which made him wanted to bang his head because he hated math. But the professor, said to be the youngest in the faculty, proved him that equations and shitloads of mathematical formulas could be interesting, with his bright smile and gorgeous face. Professor Park’s mind was brilliant, but his personality was even more radiant. He showed how he cared about each of his students, calling them on first name basis, writing them personal memos every quarter of a semester, and basically just being the most awesome human being ever.

Honestly, Baekhyun hadn’t expected his crush to go anywhere. He just wanted to get closer to Professor Park, to return some kindness he’d been given. He was one among few who still treated Baekhyun nicely. That, and how Professor Park’s brown orbs always had a certain kind of melancholy in them. Sometimes he would catch him looking at the students when they were working on assignments fondly, as if he’s recalling a pleasant memory. The faint lines around his eyes hinted odd display of experience and wisdom, which was funny because his professor was only thirty (but then he was nine years older than him, what Baekhyun knew). Professor Park was also the type who had always been immersed in hearing people’ personal anecdotes but keeping his life to himself.

He was like a riddle to Baekhyun, and god knew Baekhyun couldn’t handle being curious. He _had to_ know.

Baekhyun jerked on his stool when he saw the man in his thought walking past the convenience store in hurry. Professor Park seemed very distraught because he kept bumping on people along the street. Baekhyun nearly had a heart attack when the older man almost got hit by a running car because he didn’t pay attention to the traffic light.

Worrying his bottom lip, Baekhyun exited the convenience store. He walked fast to the direction of Chungmuro Station, his eyes trailed on his professor’s back.

 

***

 

“So you said—” CLANK! “—that—” CLANK! “—you—” _CLANK!_ _CLANK!_

Minseok ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Kyungsoo who sat on the chair before him was grinning amusedly to himself.

“Jongdae doesn’t _sound_ thrilled about my visit,” he pointed out.

Minseok’s husband chose that moment to appear from the kitchen. “I made you your _goddamn_ genmaicha, so shut up.”

“My, thank you,” Kyungsoo regarded him, faintly teasing. “It’s perfect,” he complimented after taking a sip from his cup. “How’s your clinic going?”

“Great.” Jongdae sat himself on the arm of Minseok’s chair. “How’s live in Zürich?”

“Zürich is terrific,” Kyungsoo replied. “You should take Sehun there. I’d be glad to host you three in my humble abode.”

“Oh, we might need a family holiday,” Jongdae drawled, his voice eerily sweet. He placed a firm hand around Minseok’s bicep, squeezing it hard. Minseok barely hid his wince. “Especially if Minseok decides to go with you wherever the hell that is. Isn’t that why you’re here, Kyungsoo?”

“I wouldn’t force him to do things he doesn’t want,” Kyungsoo assured Jongdae.

Minseok looked up to Jongdae, sending him a meaningful glance. Jongdae stared back with the same intent but Minseok stayed firm. After a moment Jongdae huffed resignedly, but he stood up after placing soft kiss on his forehead. “Okay, I’ll stop being the overbearing wife.”

“Thank you, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo called after Jongdae’s back. His husband gave the younger a finger that prompted Kyungsoo to chuckle.

““The Dragon’s casino? Are you out of your mind, Kyungsoo?” Minseok demanded after they were completely alone.

“People like us are basically nut jobs, Minseok,” Kyungsoo said. “You’ve been in the business for a long time, you shouldn’t be surprised.”

Minseok wanted to shake some sanity into his friend’s head. “This is a suicide mission.”

“Not if we’re being very smart, very precise,” Kyungsoo countered. “We need to pull every form of con imaginable. That’s why we need brains. That’s why I need _you_.”

Minseok exhaled heavily. He was over that life, really. When his baby was born and presented into his arms, Minseok had known he wanted to give Sehun a normal, boring family himself had never had. So he closed that chapter of his life, married his long time lover, and accepting mundane job as a taekwondo coach. It had been a normal and, well, _boring_ life just like he’d expected. But Minseok loved it, loving the fact that he could share every moment with his little family.

Then there Kyungsoo was, offering Minseok a chance to dive head-first into his past, presented it on a silver platter.

“You don’t have to answer immediately,” Kyungsoo said. He slid an envelope over the table toward Minseok. Minseok knew it held plane ticket and other necessary documents. “And even if you refused, there’s no hard feeling. I know that Jongdae and Sehun are the most important.”

“I hope you’re thinking this over,” Minseok advised.

“Many times and—” Kyungsoo looked at Minseok’s back, his smile bloomed uncharacteristically wide. “Hey, buddy!”

Four years-old Sehun peeked his head from the door of his room. Minseok almost cooed at how adorable and small his son looked. He beckoned Sehun to come closer. The boy ran and flopped himself on his father’s lap. Sehun offered his favorite uncle a friendly but mischievous grin. Clearly he remembered person who often sent him designer clothes and snapbacks. The cute brat.

“How are you, Sehunnie?” Kyungsoo asked.

“I am good, Uncle Kyungsoo” Sehun replied in simple English. Minseok beamed proudly.

“He grows up nicely,” Kyungsoo lamented, fondly.

“He does, doesn’t he?” Minseok bounced Sehun on his lap, making the said boy giggled.

“Well, I think I’m done here.” Kyungsoo slowly stood up. The younger’s height had never been impressive, but there was something in the way he carried himself that made him look tall and powerful. That was what made him caught Minseok’s eyes the first time.

“You’re leaving already?” Minseok didn’t realize that Jongdae had returned to his side. But most probably his love hadn’t left at all and been listening to them all the time. “I’m about to cook dinner.”

“I’ve already made a reservation at Shilla.” Kyungsoo alternately clapped Minseok and Jongdae’s shoulders. He patted Sehun’s cheek gently, producing a small package of chocolate from behind the child’s ear then putting it on his little palm. Sehun laughed gleefully at Kyungsoo’s trick. “I don’t want to impose you any longer.”

“What crap are you saying? Imposing?” Jongdae snorted. “You have friends who live in Jeju, who have spare rooms in their house, and you choose to stay at a hotel? I’m hurt.”

“Jongdae—”

“You are family, Kyungsoo, even if you sometimes goes emo and out of our reach.” Jongdae made to come forward and circle his arms around Kyungsoo’s body. Kyungsoo must be uncomfortable but he kept his half-grin. “You’re _so thin_. You need extra fat. A lot of fat.”

“You’re a doctor. You shouldn’t encourage people to gain cholesterol,” Kyungsoo chided, jokingly. “I need to catch an early flight back to Seoul. It’ll be convenient if I stay close to the airport.”

“Alright then.” Jongdae reluctantly freed Kyungsoo from his embrace. “Come Sehun, give Uncle Kyungsoo a hug. You’ll probably get another Chanel shades for your next birthday.”

The parents watched as Sehun threw himself into Kyungsoo’s arms who accepted him readily. Minseok could feel _worry_ , of all feelings, emanating from Jongdae as his gaze was focused on Kyungsoo. He moved to pull his younger husband closer to him.

 

 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jongdae called him as they were lying half-asleep on their bed that night. Sehun was snoring softly in between them.

“Hm?” Minseok hummed, sleepily.

“Family sticks together, right?”

Minseok suddenly sobered up. “Honey?”

“Family needs to stick together,” Jongdae sounded like he was talking more to himself. “That’s what I know. That's what I believe.”

He didn’t answer, instead drawing his family closer to him. They fell asleep tangled into each other like that. Minseok with the thought of unopened envelope at the back of his mind.

 

***

 

Chanyeol had never entered another casino since he finished his four years at KAIST. He and Kyungsoo used to visit Seoul every weekend, jumping from one casino to another, only leaving when tables had turned cold. Kyungsoo had taught him how to put his logic into motion on the table, be it for poker or blackjack or anything really. They usually won big, but smart enough not to be too conspicuous that they got caught.

The one he went that night wasn’t the nicest one. Located at the shady part of Itaewon, the patrons were mostly foreigners and gyopos. The smell of cigarettes and cheap beers wafted over him when Chanyeol walked in. He must look like a freaky nerd in his button-up shirt and old-school slacks (he just got out from long hours at the uni) since everyone was staring at him strangely.

Chanyeol picked out a table. He offered two crumpled fifty thousand bills to the dealer. “Change,” he said in English.

The woman eyed him, appraising. “Quarters or nickels?”

“Quarters are fine.”

Chanyeol only put half a mind into the game, his eyes were mostly on the bar, eyeing the man who’d been nursing a glass of scotch by himself since he arrived. His chips steadily piling up, though, proving that he might not be as rusty as he thought. Or that his opponents were all shitty players and couldn’t count card to save their wallets

“Seems like tonight is your lucky night, sir,” the dealer blurted, gathering the cards as she ended the round.

“Funny that I’m usually unlucky in my daily life,” Chanyeol replied, grinning back. He had gathered a little over one million.

“Would you like to continue?” the dealer offered.

“I—” Chanyeol sneaked a glance toward the bar, shocked to find the previously occupied seat empty. “I think I’ll call it a night.” He gathered his chips and shoved them into his pockets mindlessly. “Thank you,” he bid the dealer goodbye before rushing outside.

The alley was still crowded despite the hour but Kyungsoo was nowhere to be seen. Cursing himself from getting slightly distracted, Chanyeol jogged to the nearest main street.

“Nice play,” a familiar voice, deep and rich, had him frozen. Chanyeol turned around to see Kyungsoo leaning against nearby building, partially hidden under its shadow. “I see that you still maintain your skill. Do you play a lot?”

“This is the first time in years,” Chanyeol’s voice had somehow turned breathy.

“Really? Maybe you’re just genius.” Kyungsoo moved away from the darkness and toward him. Up close, he was simply breathtaking, with the moonlight cascaded over his slim figure. His dark eyes digged deep into Chanyeol’s when he said, “Hello, Chanyeol. It’s been a long time.”

Chanyeol had prepared for this very event. Had been meaning to throw some killer jokes and being his witty self. But nothing would come out from his open mouth at that crucial moment.

Kyungsoo tilted his head, staring at him in amusement. “Cat got your tongue?”

Chanyeol gulped.

“Well, if you don’t have anything to say—”

The way Kyungsoo checked on his watch as if he’s needed to be somewhere else spurred him to blurt. “Let’s talk over coffee! Or tea,” Chanyeol added as he recalled Kyungsoo’s affinity to the said drink. “I mean, we haven’t seen each other for years.” _Eight years_.

Kyungsoo dropped his arm. “If that’s what you want.” His gaze on him was emasculating so Chanyeol spun around, hiding his nerves with his broad back and silently gesturing the other to tag along. He repeatedly looked back just to make sure that Kyungsoo was still there because he had tendency to disappear if Chanyeol had done so much as blinking for a second too long.

He picked the 24-hours Holly’s in front of Hamilton. Chanyeol ordered a cup of Belgian chocolate for himself while Kyungsoo asked for citron tea. He insisted to pay and Kyungsoo let him do so without fight. They spent the first ten minutes sipping on their own cups. Kyungsoo stared at the crowded night street outside and Chanyeol not-so-discreetly drank on his features. He was still devastatingly gorgeous.

“You said that we should talk?” Chanyeol woke up from his stupor.

“I said that?” Kyungsoo merely stared. “Yeah, I said that.”

“Well, what do you want know?”

“Where have you been?” Chanyeol proposed the first question. A good start, except that his voice wobbled.

“Switzerland. My parents left me a small cottage in Zürich,” Kyungsoo told him. “I run a restaurant there, a tiny one but, I can eat still.”

“And buy yourself some good suits,” Chanyeol added, drily.

Kyungsoo looked down at his designer suit. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You disappeared.” He should keep his tone neutral but he couldn’t. “You didn’t even attend the graduation ceremony.”

“It’s just a ceremony,” Kyungsoo pointed out. “I only needed the degree.”

“What are you doing in Seoul?” Chanyeol fired the second one.

“I need to meet some acquaintances.”

“What for?”

Chanyeol could see that Kyungsoo began to regret this small talk. His lips had tightened round the corner despite the even smile. Good. Chanyeol loved to see him uncomfortable.

“This and that,” Kyungsoo answered. “How about you? How have you been?”

“Got my Ph.D,” Chanyeol replied shortly. “I’m teaching at Dongguk now.”

Kyungsoo took another sip of his tea. “I’ve always been thinking that it’s your call. Teaching.”

“I’m more into call that would land me in a dingy casino, at not so respectable area in the city.” Kyungsoo’s eyes hardened. “Kind of like you.”

Chanyeol waited for a response. Anything. But Kyungsoo remained muted.

“He’s not going to come,” Chanyeol blurted. “Seo Youngho, right? I told him not to.”

He felt giddy seeing the change of Kyungsoo’s calm demeanor. “Why?” Kyungsoo hissed.

“I said, I’d do it,” Chanyeol murmured. “I’ll take over your project.”

Kyungsoo surprised him by abruptly standing up. “Good to see you, Chanyeol. I gotta go.”

“Wait! Kyungsoo!”

He ran after Kyungsoo out into the street. The other obviously had shorter limbs than him, but Chanyeol had never been fully in control of his own body. He kept bumping into annoyed-looking people in his haste to follow Kyungsoo. He managed to stop him before he got into a taxi.

“What? Now you’re going to disappear again for another eight years?”

Kyungsoo scoffed. “Make it _forever_.” And Chanyeol slapped him.

If one second ago they made people took second glance at them, after that passersby were full-on glaring. Kyungsoo winced, deep red blooming over his cheek where Chanyeol had hit him. He turned to look at Chanyeol dead in the eyes. The taller man gasped when strong hand clasped itself over his forearm. He felt himself being dragged then pushed into the taxi, the door slammed shut after he’s secured inside.

Kyungsoo looked composed when he entered the car a moment later. Still, Chanyeol cowered because he could sense fury, simmering low but _there_ nonetheless, radiating from the other man. Kyungsoo said something he couldn’t catch to the driver and the car sped up on the road.

Chanyeol had acted on impulse. Yet again. He thought he’d been getting better over the years. Then Kyungsoo’s words hurt him.

“You haven't changed.” Chanyeol turned his head so fast it cricked. “You always feel a lot. And act on it.”

“Wasn't that what get us together in the first place?” A kiss inside communal bathroom during secret college party. He recalled pulling Kyungsoo into him, capturing his plump lips in a kiss that was messy and wet. He was so glaringly inexperienced. Kyungsoo had looked like a deer in headlight at the first contact, but he was the one who drew Chanyeol closer, leading how their lips moved until it turned from disastrous to passionate. He remembered it all.

“You have a good life.” Kyungsoo ignored his retort. “You're obviously older. But you’re still _that_ Chanyeol.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“You won't ever see me again after this,” Kyungsoo enunciated each word firmly. His expression was cold and determined. “Anything that you've heard, forget it. Don't—”

“What are you planning to do?” Chanyeol cut him because he couldn't hear anymore. “Why are you looking for a hacker? Nevermind, I don't need to know. But I'll let you know. I am a good one; best one in Seoul, probably in the entire Korea. And you know that I'm loyal to you. I want to help.”

“Don't be stupid, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo sighed, tiredly. “When I said that we’re over, I really meant it.”

Chanyeol turned his head to the window so Kyungsoo couldn't see his red eyes.

“It was nice while it lasted,” Kyungsoo mercilessly continued. “That's all. It had died long, long ago. You should let go.”

“If I say I'm not going to?” Chanyeol sounded like a stubborn toddler but he didn't care.

The car stopped in a seemingly familiar neighborhood. Kyungsoo reached past Chanyeol to open the door for him.

“Goodbye, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo said without a glance. “Live well.”

Chanyeol got out of the car in a robotic motion. The door was immediately shut after him. The car drove off.

If Chanyeol was smart he would listen to Kyungsoo’s warning. If Chanyeol wasn't blind he would see how cold and collected Kyungsoo when he said they were done. However, he was neither of that two. As he entered his bland apartment, he had made up his mind. He’d rather listen to his heart. It's telling him what to do.

Beside his heart also told him that Kyungsoo _cared_. If the fact that the man dropped him right in front of his building without Chanyeol telling him his address mattered.

 

***

 

 

Jongin watched as her boyfriend aimlessly wandering around their bedroom. It had been a common occurrence in the past few days, after Do Kyungsoo’s visit to be exact. Apparently Joonmyun was very preoccupied with the matter despite everything that he had said.

Sighing, Jongin approached the older man from the back. She wrapped her arms around Joonmyun’s middle, pressing her nose against his nape, inhaling the scent that she loved the most. Joonmyun sagged against her body, some tension left him but his shoulder remained squared.

“I’d say that you should do what your heart tells you to do,” Jongin whispered, lips lightly touching Joonmyun’s skin.

“Even if it’s stupid?” Joonmyun murmured back. “Even if it’s suicidal?”

“Baby.” Jongin leaned back to allow Joonmyun to turn around. She internally winced when she saw severe dark lines under Joonmyun’s almond eyes. “You once said that Do Kyungsoo is the most skillful guy you ever know. That if you ever had the sudden urge to see Madonna, he’ll be the only one to steal it for you and return it back to its place unscathed-”

“Which he’s done once, by the way,” Joonmyun added drily.

“So why don't you put your trust in him this once?”

Joonmyun shook his head. “This is different than the risk of being put under Interpol’s watch. The Dragon is often associated with mafia. They will destroy him, Jongin.”

“You think Kyungsoo is going to act recklessly?” Jongin asked.

“He’s had years to plan this out, I'm sure,” Joonmyun replied. “But even the most elaborate ploy would have loopholes.”

“You’re going to just watch him entering the doom?” Jongin nudged him again. She knew that Joonmyun had already had his answer. He just needed a little push to get there, the reassurance that Jongin is beside him in his every step. “Wouldn't it be better for _both_ _of_ _you_ that you’re there overseeing everything? That when things get critical, you can pull him out of it?”

Joonmyun closed his eyes and went silent for a moment. Jongin decided to give him time, watching the man she loved mulling over her words. Those were mere reflection of Joonmyun’s own thoughts. When he opened his eyes again, Jongin knew her man had his final decision.

“Pack your bag,” Joonmyun instructed. Jongin smiled at this. “I know this won't be the last break down I’ll have related to Kyungsoo. I will need you there to talk me out of it.”

 

***

 

 

“Are you sure that you’re going to give back that research grant?” Junho asked him for the umpteenth time. “It might hold you back from getting a permanent position at the faculty.”

“I’m still too young and inexperienced,” Chanyeol said humbly. “You’re here far longer than I am. I think nobody deserves this opportunity as much as you do.”

Junho laughed. “But still, I feel bad for trading your huge grant with my shady errand.”

“Don't feel too bad about it,” Chanyeol assured him. “I think such small projects suit me better, anyway.”

“However, I don’t really get that project,” Junho said. “That man, Huang-something, barely explained anything except that I have to fly to Macau and that I might need to do some tinkering there. You got to be careful, Chanyeol. Return to Seoul immediately if you sense something amiss.”

“I will, hyung.” Chanyeol smiled. His left hand fiddled with the white envelope that kept his air ticket to Macau. “It’s going to be interesting there. Don't worry.”

 

 

***

 

 

It had been _years_ since Minseok last let out his classic Armani suits from the back of his closet. These past few years he didn't have any use of them, what’s with him working at a mere taekwondo instructor. But he had to dress his part for this. And man, the sensation of silk and satin wrapped you in like a second skin was definitely exquisite. Minseok had missed it.

Jongdae had kept his suits in good shape, his loving and sweet husband. Minseok’s heart ached a little, thinking about leaving his husband and son even just for a little while. He hoped that they would understand how much Minseok needed to do it. _Family sticks together_ , he remembered Jongdae’s saying. Kyungsoo was his family and it was against Minseok’s conscience to let him walked the path alone.

It only required him another ten minutes before he’s walking out his front door, a mini suitcase ready in his hand. His flight ticket was already inside along with his passport (his alternate one, of course), a photograph of Sehun, and Jongdae’s favorite body wash. He glanced back one time at his small house, smiling a little sadly. He was ready to embark this adventure.

 

 

***

 

 

“Going somewhere?” Taehyung, Baekhyun’s roommate, asked curiously. “The final term isn't over yet.”

“I don't have sit-in exam, perks of studying Computer Science,” Baekhyun explained, smirking. “And for your information: I’ve handed in my projects early.”

Taehyun whistled in awe. “Wow, you must be so eager to leave. What are you going to do over the break?”

“Just this and that.” Baekhyun shrugged. He zipped up his travel bag, satisfied. He was ready.

“Pass my greeting to your parents,” Taehyung said. “And don't forget bringing some kimchi from home. I _love_ your mother’s kimchi.”

“But I’m not going to Bucheon.” Baekhyun grinned at Taehyung’s confused face. “I’m heading to Macau.”

 

 

***

 

 

 

“Here are your ticket and documents, sir,” Zitao said. Kyungsoo accepted an envelope from him.

“Is everything ready?”

“Lee Junho is going to fly to Macau International Airport tomorrow morning,” Zitao answered. “And Master Minseok has already resided at Master Joonmyun’s resort since this afternoon. Master Joonmyun himself will travel there by his private jet tonight.”

Kyungsoo breathed a little easier. “Excellent.”

“I will finish all the remaining businesses here before following you, sir,” Zitao promised.

Kyungsoo looked up at his butler, his ever loyal Zitao. It was hard to imagine that this soft spoken tall man was a scaredy boy who used to cling at Kyungsoo all the time even if they were roughly the same age and height as children. Zitao had grown nicely as well as Kyungsoo, although he was more vertically _down to earth_ than the other man, however it's comforting to know some things hadn't changed. Zitao was still there to back him up.

“I can't thank you enough for this,” Kyungsoo said. “Your support means a lot.”

Zitao’s smile was sad when he stared right back at him. “It’s hard for me to see you doing this but,” Zitao sniffed, “Black Pearl was my home too. This is as important to me as it is to you. Kyungsoo.” Zitao added, putting a hint of smile at Kyungsoo’s face at the rare mention of his name from the guy.

The intercom announced Kyungsoo’s flight. “I’ll wait for you there.”

“Have a safe flight, sir.” Zitao bowed respectfully.

Kyungsoo exhaled and walked to the passengers gate. It’s a game on.

 

 

***

 

 

“Papa!” Sehun called for him, frantically. Jongdae sighed and put down Minseok’s short memo. “Help!”

As expected, he found Sehun sitting on their tall kitchen stool (how the boy got there he completely had no idea). His son was holding a jar of peanut butter. Sehun’s cheeks were red with exertion, eyes a bit watery. Jongdae exhaled fondly at his baby son’s struggle. He also wondered where did Sehun get his dramatic streak from but then remembered that he himself would bawl over a minor scratch. Then demanded Minseok to kiss his booboo.

“Papa,” Sehun whimpered pitifully.

Jongdae strode over, taking the jar from Sehun then wrenching it open. He gave it back to his son who immediately scooped a handful with a spoon.

“Sehunnie,” Jongdae said.

“Um?” Sehun’s voice was muffled because the nut butter got stuck in his mouth.

“How about we go on a holiday?” Jongdae offered. “Daddy has a business trip at Macau. We can fly there and surprise him?”

Sehun lit up adorably, despite his full mouth. Jongdae grinned then kissed his son’s chubby cheeks lovingly. It’s settled.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try my hardest to update this regularly.


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